


The Distance Between Us

by voiceless_terror



Series: TMA Hurt/Comfort Week [4]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Crying, Cuddles, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Jon Misses Sasha and Tim, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist Has ADHD, Not Super Important but Does Explain Some Things, Reconciliation, Self-Worth Issues, TMAHC Week, and he tries his best, season one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:35:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26143444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voiceless_terror/pseuds/voiceless_terror
Summary: Jon can feel Tim and Sasha pulling away from him after his promotion, so he tries to reconnect over dinner and wine.
Relationships: Sasha James & Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist & Tim Stoker
Series: TMA Hurt/Comfort Week [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1893808
Comments: 46
Kudos: 276





	The Distance Between Us

**Author's Note:**

> For Day Four: Touch-Starved/Fragile/Sharp.

When he asked if they’d wanted to revive their Friday tradition, Tim and Sasha had said no.

They weren’t nasty about it, they at least _looked_ apologetic as they told him they were busy, that the new positions were a lot of work, that they weren’t sure if they could fit it in their schedules.

Jon was dismissive, told them it was fine. After all, he’d been known to cancel their dinners a few times, leaving Sasha and Tim on their own as they tried in vain to drag him away from his desk.

And it was true! They were all so busy these days trying to get the archives in order that having their Friday dinners seemed a bit extravagant. Plus, with Martin now here and Jon as their boss, the dynamic had definitely shifted.

He just wished he’d stayed a little later today, that’s all. Then he wouldn’t have seen Sasha and Tim walking off to the pub, laughing. Happy and carefree in a way they hadn’t been since they’d started in the basement. Jon told himself it didn’t hurt, that it was natural their dynamic would change once he became their boss. Nobody wants to invite their boss to dinner. 

He’d just thought- well, he'd thought that they were friends. That maybe they would want their friend to come to dinner. Commiserate with them and have a few too many drinks like in the old days. But he pushed that feeling down. He wasn’t entitled to it, and he knew what he had done when he took this job. Jon had told Elias that there were much more qualified candidates and even went so far as to suggest Sasha. The promotion offer had turned into a two hour debate that Jon lost. Not an auspicious start.

So when they left without him, he turned away. And when Martin-who’d taken to staying until Jon left-asked him what was wrong, he threw off the concern with a sneer and went back to his office, where he remained until late in the night. When he finally came out of hiding, Martin had left him too. 

The loneliness was crushing at times, a weight bearing down on his shoulders that never relented. He got no solace even in his dreams, filled as they were with graveyards and fog and whatever hellish nightmare he’d read that day. 

Jon stopped asking after a month of rejections. He wondered if they’d been going out every Friday since. He wondered if any of the excuses were actually true. He wasn’t immune to hurt; he thought they knew that. Tim worked so hard to get him out of his shell three years ago. Sasha would stay with him during the worst cases, trading theories and going on coffee runs well into the night. He thought they knew him, that they even liked him. 

But maybe after all this time, they realized they didn’t like what they saw. That he wasn’t worth the time or effort. He wasn’t _fun_ or _nice_ or _good._ Jon thought he was getting better, becoming a person worthy of that sort of affection and love. He saw through that lie now.

Surely he could try harder. He did tend to isolate himself in his office, and now that they no longer shared a communal table in the library or spent all day together they didn't talk as much. Jon needed to reach out, let them know that he cared and wanted them to confide in him like they used to. He would change, if they needed him to. Jon just wanted _clarity_ , so he could know what he was doing wrong. So he could fix it.

He approached them the next Wednesday, hoping to get ahead of any plans in-the-making. Tim and Sasha were at their desks trading barbs; their banter felt familiar and comforting, even if he was no longer a part of it. They didn’t acknowledge his presence at first (that’s fine, he was rather quiet when he walked) but looked up as he cleared his throat. Jon wilted at their gaze; it wasn’t accusatory, but it didn’t hold the friendliness he was used to. He looked down at the ground, shuffling his feet as he struggled to put his request into words. He didn’t think he could stand another rejection.

“Yes?” Tim prompted, not unkindly. More impatient. “What do you need, boss?”

_Boss_. There it was again. At first it had felt friendly, teasing. But now it felt mocking, just another way to further the distance between them and set a clear boundary. _You’re not like us._

“U-um,” he began, cursing his stutter. Having friends and regular conversations had helped ease it, but he was much out of practice. “I w-was just wondering, if maybe, if it’s not t-too much trouble-”

“Spit it out, Jon.” Sasha. She was usually so patient with him. The words stung.

“Wouldyoulike- _sorry,_ sorry! I would like t-to know if you would, would like-” This wasn’t going well. “I want to make you dinner. At my house. On Friday. Please.”

He was met with silence, so he decided to qualify his request, heart beating furiously in his chest.

“I-I know we haven’t d-done dinner much lately, and we usually go out. I know I’m not the g-greatest cook, but I wanted to- wanted to thank you, that is, for a job well done. Helping me. Dealing with me.” A self deprecating laugh.

They stared back at him, confused at the offer. Sasha tentatively began to respond. “That’s really not necessary, Jon. Just doing our jobs.”

Jon couldn’t help the next words that came out of his mouth and he winced at their pathetic sound. “Please. I would really like it if you c-came.”

_Go on then, make it all about you. Poor unqualified Jon needs a pat on the back._

The pity in their eyes was clear to see and it killed him in a thousand tiny ways, like shattered glass he'd stepped in. They shared a look, as if having a conversation with their eyes alone.

“Alright,” Tim agreed, sighing heavily as if the words pained him. “We’ll be there. Is seven okay? We’ll want some time to get ready.”

He hadn't expected such an easy surrender. They were coming! Maybe, just maybe he would have a chance to fix things. 

“O-Okay!” he hastened to reply, allowing himself a small smile. “Yes, that would be wonderful. Th-Thank you. For this.”

“Would you like us to bring anything?” Sasha supplied. “Bottle of wine, maybe?”

“We’ll need that,” Tim muttered with a snort and Sasha kicked him under the desk. Jon didn’t know if he was supposed to hear that, but Tim wasn’t being very quiet.

“N-No! Just yourselves,” A nervous laugh. “I’ll take care of everything else.” _Please. I’ll do everything just right._

“That’s sweet of you,” Sasha offered diplomatically. “We’ll see you then?”

“O-Okay, great!” He smiled at them, and they halfheartedly returned it. He gave an awkward little wave and ducked back into his office, before they could take it back. 

He hid in his office for the rest of the day, too scared to face them again. Best to start planning, make everything perfect so they would be happy, so they would _smile_ at him like they used to and let him know that he was useful. That he could make things right.

The next two days passed slowly and painfully. Tim and Sasha still only interacted with him in a work capacity, though now they greeted him when they arrived in the morning. _Baby steps are good!_ On his way out, he paused by their desks to confirm, hoping they hadn’t changed their minds. 

“Yup,” Tim replied, popping the last letter of the word. “We’ll be there. With _bells_ on.” That sounded somewhat enthusiastic, and Jon allowed his heart to hope.

“ _Tim,”_ Sasha warned. _Oh_. “Looking forward to it.” At least Sasha seemed to be smiling genuinely. Jon nodded and scurried off, noticing the way Martin hung back, clearly listening to the conversation. He felt a bit guilty at not inviting the other man, but he didn’t know him well enough yet. And he couldn’t imagine how awkward it would be if he tried to make nice with Tim and Sasha while Martin watched.

Best to focus on one relationship at a time. 

He’d stayed up late last night, perfecting the kimbap he knew Tim loved and couldn’t resist whenever he brought it in for lunch. He’d purchased three bottles of the wine Sasha preferred, though the price tag made him wince. _It’s a small price to pay for friendship_ , he reasoned with himself. And he couldn’t deny he had an ulterior motive; maybe the wine would help loosen them up, making them more open to talking with him. Tim, at least, had always been an affectionate drunk. 

His apartment had become somewhat of a disaster zone the last few months, it had taken a day (and most of a night, if he were being honest) to get it in shape for company. It wouldn’t do for them to see how much he was falling apart, how little care he put into the material aspects of life. In his cleaning, Jon had managed to find the candle Tim had given him last Christmas, and he lit on his coffee table. The pleasant aroma made him smile and he hoped Tim would be happy he made use of it.

6:45. Jon already had the table set, the food waiting. He didn’t want to be bustling around in the kitchen if they came early. _Should I open the bottle of wine_? Yes, best to let it breathe. He struggled briefly, almost dropping it in his haste to have it open.

7:00. He fidgeted by the front door. _They’re not like you, they don’t have to be punctual to the minute._ Sasha was not above being fashionably late.

7:15. There was still time. _Is it possible to let wine breathe too long?_

7:30. Texted them, but no response from either. _This is fine._

7:45. _I don’t think they’re fashionably late anymore._

8:00. Jon stared across the beautifully set table, eyes watering. _I don’t think they’re coming._

He’d ruined it. He didn’t try hard enough. He had let their friendship slip, and now he was reaping the reward for his dereliction. _Stupid, useless. Can’t even keep two friends. And they tried_ so _hard with you._

He was startled out of his almost bout of tears by footsteps in the hallway. _Could it be them?_ He jumped out of his seat in anticipation and hovered over the table.

A knock at the door. Jon broke into a grin, and rushed to unlatch it. “H-Hi!”

Tim had an arm slung around Sasha’s shoulders as he gave Jon a smirk. “‘Lo there.” It was then that Jon took in their appearance; they were dressed in the same clothes they’d worn in the office, only more ruffled and out of sorts. The alcohol was strong on Tim's breath. They hadn’t gone home at all, hadn’t needed to get ready.

They needed liquid courage just to stand his company. _That’s why they’re late._

He assured himself that this was fine as he let them stumble into his kitchen. It was fine when they collapsed in their chairs, no apology for their lateness or their state of inebriation. When Sasha started to gulp her wine and Tim grabbed a roll of kimbap, shoving it into his mouth before Jon had even had a chance to take his seat. At least they were here, right?

Jon hurried to his seat, the chair squeaking as he pulled it out. Sasha winced at the noise. 

“S-Sorry,” Jon immediately apologized and tried to smile. “I hope you like everything. I know it’s not perfect, but I t-tried to make it special.” Tim grunted, shoveling more food into his mouth. He, at least, seemed to like it. Sasha made no attempt to eat, though she sat back in her chair and gave him a lazy smile. "S’really nice, Jon. Thanks.”

Awkward silence settled over the table. Well, awkward for Jon. Tim and Sasha acted as if he wasn’t at the table, making their way through the food and wine as if it would disappear. Jon couldn’t find it in himself to eat, but he tried to sip at his drink. When he moved to speak, Tim interrupted him.

“Remember that bar down the street from here, Sash?” he said, mouth full of rice. “You and me should hit it up after this. Make it a night.”

“Hmm, maybe,” Sasha’s eyes were already closed, leaning back in her chair with the glass of wine loosely held in her hand.

Jon watched the two of them acting out this play that he was only a spectator to. Was this some sort of punishment? Did he mess up again? _But I worked so hard._ Every failure, his alone. Can’t be an archivist, can’t be a friend, can barely be a person. He felt his lower lip tremble and hot, shameful tears rolled down his face. _You deserve this_. He let out an involuntary sniffle and wanted to run, but his limbs were glued to his seat. He needed to stay, at least have the courtesy not to leave them at the table.

Sasha looked his way at the sound, her eyes widening out of their tipsy stupor. “Jon?” her chair scraped back, and she hesitated in standing. “What’s wrong? Is everything okay?” Tim stared as well, frowning. Jon couldn’t meet their eyes, see their pity. He sniffed again, desperate to get himself under control as words fell from his lips.

“I-I’m sorry,” he babbled, wiping furiously at his eyes. “I’m a horrible host, I just- I just-” He choked on the words. “I don’t know what I did to make you _hate_ me.”

  
  


“W-what?” Sasha replied, getting out of her seat and making his way over to his seat and kneeling down beside him. She took his hand, gazing at him imploringly. The action was terribly gentle, something he hadn’t been subject to in so long. He didn’t know if it helped or hurt, but he didn’t want her to let go. “We could _never_ hate you.”

“You never talk to me anymore,” he bit out, his eyes shut tightly against her alien kindness. “You go out w-without me, and I j-just want to talk, I just need you to tell me what to do d-different, to fix, and I’ll be good, I _promise._ ” He opened his eyes and squeezed Sasha’s hand. “I-I thought if I made you dinner, made you _happy_ , I could t-tell you.” He met Sasha’s horrified eyes, willing her to listen. “I didn’t mean to take your job, I told Elias I wasn’t good enough, it should have been you-”

At some point Tim had gotten up from his seat, and Jon flinched at the strong arms that wound around his shoulders and neck. “God, I'm sorry Jon. It’s not your fault- here, let’s get you over to the couch, okay?” He let himself be led to the living room and sandwiched between the two of them, gently entangling their limbs until Sasha was glued to his arm and Tim was petting at his hair. The positions weren’t unfamiliar to him- they’d spent many a night after the bar in the same hold. But for some reason it made him cry harder.

“ _We_ should be apologizing, not you,” Tim squeezed him harder, and Sasha nodded in agreement. “We were being cruel. The job switch, your promotion, all of this creepy shit that’s been happening has us all out of sorts.”

“But you were _mad_ I could see it and you’re still mad and I don’t know what to _do_ about it.”

“Those aren’t excuses for the way we behaved,” Sasha said firmly. “I was disappointed and I took it out on you and we let it get out of hand. You were an easy target, all stressed and irritable. We should’ve talked to you, not shut you out. We shouldn't have let it go this far. I guess I didn't realize how rough we were on you until now. And I’m so sorry.” It sounded sincere.

“Me too,” Tim murmured, pressing Jon’s head further into his chest. “We should’ve been happy for you. Supported you. We’re your _friends_. And I hope we can make it up to you, if you’ll let us.”

Jon slowly raised his head to match Tim’s serious look. “You really don’t have to do that, I don’t need-”

“Yes you do,” Sasha interrupted, putting her chin on his shoulder. “And we will. Look at all these nice things you did for us, when we didn’t even deserve it-”

“Made my favorite,” Tim ruffled his hair affectionately. “Got Sash’s wine.” 

“And we’re gonna finish it,” Sasha said playfully. “Get a few more glasses in you. I wanna see Five Drink Sims. I missed that guy.”

Jon ducked his head down, overwhelmed by the kindness. But he still needed to make sure- needed to _know_. “Well, you deserve it. We’re...you’re my friends, and I want you to be happy.”

“We _are_ your friends,” Tim agreed solemnly. “And we’re going to start acting like it. It shouldn’t have had to come to this. You deserve to be happy too.” Jon burrowed closer to Tim, too stunned to speak. _I don’t know if that’s true._ Tim pressed him closer in response, as if sensing his doubts. “We’re going to make sure you see that.”

Sasha gently disentangled her arms and stretched her limbs. “I, for one, could use another drink. And a plate of that delicious food you made. So I’m going to bring that over, and we’re going to watch one of your nature documentaries, and you’re going to tell us every single fact you know about orca whales.” 

Jon smiled, accepting the tissue Tim handed him and blowing his nose as quietly as he could. “Orca whales aren’t actually whales. They’re dolphins.”

“Brilliant,” Tim gave him one of those bright smiles he’d missed so much as Sasha waltzed from the room. “Is that the candle I got you? Smells fucking _great_ in here.”

“Yeah,” Jon admitted, his face heating up. “Thought you’d like it.”

“Next Friday we’re doing this at mine!” Sasha called from the kitchen, where she could be seen filling the wine glasses to the brim. 

“And mine next,” Tim said as he settled against the couch, bringing Jon down with him. “Maybe we can invite Martin sometime. Weird dude, but I think I like him.”

“That would be nice,” Jon agreed, shutting his eyes and feeling the tension pour out of his body at the pressure of Tim’s arms. He imagined the Fridays to come- no longer alone in his apartment, surrounded by his old friends and maybe a new one too. Hope bloomed in his chest, a delicate, fragile thing that he didn’t want to ever lose. “I think I might like him too.”

**Author's Note:**

> And they all became best friends and killed Elias. The end.
> 
> My first thought with touch-starved was of course Martin and the Lonely, but I seem to have an inability to write H/C unless it's directed towards Jon and set in Season One. So here you are.
> 
> Let me know if it made you as sad to read it as it did to me while I was writing. Thanks for reading!


End file.
